Everything
by xShippyAngelx
Summary: A story of losing and gaining; of commiting and letting go. A story of nothing, really… and everything.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I mean no profits with this story. The show and its characters belong to their owners.

**Everything**

**By ****Shippy****Angel**

"_Find me here, and speak to me  
I want to feel you, I need to hear you  
You are the light that's leading me to the place  
Where I find peace again…  
You are the strength that keeps me walking  
You are the hope that keeps me trusting  
You are the life to my soul  
You are my purpose – you're everything."  
_(Lifehouse – Everything)

"Penny for your thoughts?", he teased in a hoarse voice, trading the warmth from the inside of the squad room for the cold of the night in its terrace. He was leaning casually against the wall, as though he'd been standing there for hours just watching her. It was amazing, really, how he could easily disguise his anxiety and concern with humor and flirtiness.

She didn't look back, but a shiver ran down her spine; she instantly replied "It will take you more than a penny, Dinozzo", making no effort to pretend that she hadn't recognized the idiom he's used. If it had been an ordinary day, she probably would – just for the sake of making him whine. But then again, if it had been just an ordinary day, she'd felt his presence way before his voice made itself known.

Tony stepped close to Ziva, not enough to touch her, but enough to let her know he was there.

Within reach.

Alive.

Real.

Their relationship was so comfortable by then, but they have always communicated better with glances and subtle touches, than with words. Tony was unsure of what to do, because something was definitely wrong with his partner. It wasn't like her to be so unfocused during a case or snapping aggressively for no reason (at anyone other than him, at least).

He reached for her, letting his coat settle on her shoulders, warming her up. He half-expected her to tease his chivalry with a smirk –that was what she would normally do–, but he knew she wasn't in that kind of mood that night. He let his fingers linger on her covered arms more than necessary, caressing her. He was treading a thin line and he was aware of that, but he simply had to. He couldn't help himself. He got tired of that little game they had been playing for years. He grew tired of holding himself back constantly. He didn't want to let go of her… Not then, not ever. And she had been so distant the whole day, almost as when she first came to NCIS.

Her lips curled up slightly, but she didn't drop her serious expression. She kept staring at the horizon, preventing what seemed to be tears from falling, and he felt weak in the knees. His heart started beating faster, because it looked like there was hope – for her to finally let him in completely, even though that was not the most suitable place for that.

Hell, he didn't care.

She was lost in her thoughts and he was evidently trying to be there for her. Sometimes, they would trade places; sometimes she would be the one to make him come out of his shell. And maybe there was hope for him, for her, for them to finally be together. Tony felt as though all risk was worth it.

But his mind kept telling him that she would never open up, especially not while in the Navy Yard. Either way, she had just left the office out of blue, as if she was about to throw up on her desk. That was equally uncommon. So if they were fighting the odds, he might as well gambler higher.

She finally locked eyes with him and he questioned '_Are you okay?_' with a mere nod of his head. No words were needed. No words were ever needed for them to read each other. She rolled her eyes in response, as if saying '_You never change, yes_?', referring to his unconditional hero-complex. Forgetting her own demons for a couple of seconds, Ziva wished she could just tell him that was the reason why she fell in love with him in the first place.

But her demons were fighting harder that night, and so she let that thought drop.

Tony leaned close to Ziva's ear, his voice filled with concern, as their proximity allowed him to see a stain on her cheek, left by the tear she must have shed seconds before. "You're crying", he said, more than asked.

"Nah," she waved her hand in the air, dismissing him. And she sniffled, "It's just... you know?"

He nodded, not knowing what to say. She put her tough façade back on, because she was certain he didn't know; he couldn't possibly know… Nobody knew. But much like so many other things about her, intimate things, maybe he could. They didn't talk about it as often as they should – her past, her family, Israel –, but Tony had caught some of the pieces in the rare times she mentioned it, pulling the puzzle together. He treasured her histories, held dearly against his chest all the glimpses from her private world, whenever she opened up to him. If she only knew…

Tony reached out to put a strand of Ziva's hair behind her ear, barely touching her at all. He wanted to face her fully; he wanted her to catch his most honest look, when he said "I actually do, Ziva."

To clear any confusion, he sufficed "How old would she be today?", and so she turned to him completely, with her lips slightly parted in surprise. He was glad and partially proud to get her undivided attention, instead of sharing it with the sky turning from orange to pitch black.

Ziva had a frown on her forehead, at first. How could he possibly know, if she never mentioned it? Maybe she had taken his investigation abilities for granted. Or maybe he just had a gut feeling, a good guess and decided to go for it. She must have been bitchy that day, she presumed. Either way, Gibbs had taught him well – Tony was not a probie, or a frat boy anymore. Her expression turned into acceptance, maybe a little bit of fear from being seen and… something else he couldn't understand.

He actually didn't have the time to understand, because Ziva wore that unreadable expression that made him question himself if they were ever truly familiar to each other. Her mind kept replaying '_How old would she be today, how old would she be today…_' and having Tony to watch her go through that was too much for her.

The next thing he knew, she was getting rid of his jacket and crashing it against his arms with full force. Her right shoulder touched his left one, as she turned to get back inside. Tony tried to make Ziva look at him, but he failed to succeed. She was trying to hide; she was escaping through his fingers, again. He couldn't possibly expect it to be easy… But, just for once, he wanted it not to be so hard.

He tried to reach for her hand but, as his digits touched hers, she made a quicker getaway. He hated it but he had to accept her need for space. And then she whispered, with a constricted throaty voice "I cannot do this", she sniffled, "I am sorry".

"Ziva," he tried again, "Don't do this."

"Do what, Tony?", she asked, with her back to him.

He tried to reach for her, but she kept on walking without looking back. "Walk away?", she whispered, holding the door open. He couldn't see her face, but she sounded so hurt. He could tell that she was fighting hard to keep her tears from falling and her anger at bay. "That's everything I know."

And so he understood.

And with that, she was gone.

She was gone and he could only tell that the whole scene hadn't been just a fidget of his imagination because her scent lingered in the air, fulfilling the space she had left behind. He inhaled deep as he closed his eyes and asked himself if he was doing the right thing; if they were truly ready for all of that.

He wanted to go after her; but, despite his plans of changing things between them, he had already taken the first step – now she had to make up her mind. He couldn't force her, no matter how much scared he was; scared of losing everything they had built, scared of a possibly bad timing that would ruin everything.

They could be friends that shared movie nights every week. They could be partners who understood each other without words in the field. They had endless inside jokes. They had an amazing chemistry and a strong sexual tension that would never dissipate. But they remained treading the waters, just getting a taste of how things could be; they never dig too deep… and Tony was finally ready to admit that he wanted deeper and deeper and deeper with that Israeli woman who had changed his life for good.

The wind was cold and Tony felt as though Ziva's pain was his own. He ruffled his hair and remained with his eyes closed to try to make a better sense out of things.

But she was gone.

And being gone was like second nature to her…

That was everything she knew.

**To be continued**


	2. Chapter 2

_Hi. _:] _I really want to thank y'all for your kind reviews, favorites and alerts!  
I'm new to this "NCIS world" (I've only been watching the show for a couple of months now) and English is not even my second language. I can't begin to explain how incredibly nice it is to get this connection from you guys. _

"_You calm the storms and you give me rest  
You hold me in your hands  
You won't let me fall  
You steal my heart and you take my breath away  
Would you take me in?  
Take me deeper now"  
(Lifehouse – Everything)_

Ziva took the stairs.

She went for her desk in a hurry, packing up her things without looking pass her shoulders to check if Tony was on her track. Both Gibbs and McGee were nowhere to be seen and she felt somewhat relieved for that fact. Her eyes were burning, but that wasn't the place, or the time to behave like that.

She took a deep breath, remembering how close she was from falling into Tony's arms, right there in the Navy Yard. How unprofessional… but how right, somehow. She had to bite her lips from saying all the things he still didn't know about her: all sins, all fears and her well-hidden sensibility.

The words were threatening to escape, with the risk of breaking up her walls all at once. And that scared her more than facing the truth that had been hurting her all day: her sister was gone. Both things hurt tremendously. You can't play cards with death; it's undeniable, unnegotiable – pretty much like her defenses around Tony.

Ziva took the elevator and, in less than a minute, she was standing in the parking lot. But she closed her eyes in defeat when she remembered that her car apparently needed some mechanical repairs that morning, and so Tony had given her a lift to work.

_Great. _

She kicked some random car that was parked and she cursed in Hebrew to get rid of the tension.

She had to reorganize her thoughts, to come up with a different plan; and so she convinced herself that she could use a walk, instead of taking a cab. It was a long way to her apartment, but why the hurry? What would she go back to anyway? Empty spaces? Cold, accusing walls?

No. She could walk those miles; she could let out the memories which were hitting her chest so hard.

Ziva strolled through the streets, barely watching the traffic or the people, and she thought of all the things she wanted to tell Tony.

Things that he deserved to know.

Things that any human being deserved to share.

She wanted him to know how she felt when she held her sister for the very first time, and to sing him her favorite Hebrew lullaby.

She wanted to tell him that sometimes at night she could still smell Tali's sweet scent all over her bed sheets, as when they were younger and her sister would beg her to read some silly fairytale. She wanted to confess that she could even hear her giggles, occasionally. And that she often woke up and tried to remember the way her pillow would look like, all covered with curly hair blocking her view. (All the things she knew by heart.)

She wanted him to understand how much she missed those familiar big-brown smiley eyes staring back at her, filled with trust.

Ziva wanted to tell Tony that, every once in a while, she let herself remember the way Tali's small and soft fingers would embrace her stronger ones or braid her hair.

She wanted to show him that she had kept a box filled with pictures and letters, even though everybody thought she was just an unsympathetic person, unable to fell. Ziva wanted to break that belief from Tony. Unlike popular belief, she wasn't the type of person who avoided pain or pretended it didn't exist – she just felt like the world didn't need to know when it hurt too much on the inside; so she had learned to compartmentalize things and deal with them later, when she was all by herself.

She wanted to whisper how she often blames herself for wasting time, trading her sister's company for her friend's parties or a date somewhere downtown. She remembers how sometimes she would feel bored when Tali wanted to share a very detailed story. She loved that girl, would die and kill for her, but sometimes… sometimes Tali was just a kid. Ziva's patience would fade, because her sister being talkative meant she had to concentrate harder on learning how to disarm a bomb or to achieve some complicated Krav-Maga tactics.

She wanted to avow, with pride in her voice, that she was the person who helped her sister pick up the perfect dress for her first date – the one she never got to attend to, because she died hours before. (Their mother wasn't there anymore; so Ziva had to fill the void.) She remembered perfectly that Tali had her cheeks burning from embarrassment when she confessed, in the privacy of her room, that she was falling for her best friend, who –according to her– was her soul-mate. Yeah, Tali was that kind of person; the type Ziva would never be and she wanted to let Tony know.

She wanted him to be aware that, back at those days, she was trying too hard to be the perfect soldier for her Abba and the responsible daughter for her Ima and that had lead her not to see what her little sister needed and deserved; for not giving enough and taking it all for granted.

She wanted to tell him that she would give anything for just another minute with Tali, even just another chance of hearing her laugh, of learning from her simplicity. Of holding her, as she would usually do while they waited for Ari to come home late at night.

Ziva wanted to show Tony just how valuable those days were; but also how foreign they felt now.

She wanted to explain that she would always feel irrationally guilty for not being in her sister's place when the suicide bombing went off, but that she had understood, after so many years, that it was the emptiness that Tali had left behind that would always prevail in the end and hurt her endlessly.

She wanted to tell him how lonely she felt without Tali and how all that she had left was the memory of her face, her voice, her thin-figure, her generosity, her passion of horses – all those images that would never disappear.

And also how sometimes she selfishly wished they would.

Ziva stopped wondering of all the things she had wanted to tell Tony when she found herself standing outside of his apartment complex.

Her mind was suddenly filled with boundaries… How late was it? And how did she manage to get there without noticing? How many miles did she walk? Would he even be home? Would he let her in?

She closed her eyes and she stopped herself from coming up with pointless excuses – when the only honest question was: Did all those things even matter when everything she needed was right in there?

**To be continued**

**A/N: **I know this chapter went without dialogues – and that usually sucks –, but this specific plot hits me so close from home… I just couldn't help myself from posting it. But the next/final chapter will hopefully compensate it all.


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